


21st Batch

by Cyberrat



Series: Fic Batches [21]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Overwatch (Video Game), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Gaping, Biting, Cuckolding, Dirty Talk, F/M, Femdom, Fingerfucking, Fisting, Hand Feeding, Humiliation, Identity Porn, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mind Break, Praise Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader-Insert, Rimming, Size Difference, Virginity Kink, Voyeurism, beastiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-05-13 11:26:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19250248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: 21st Batch of my fics





	1. McCree/Reaper/Soldier76

**Author's Note:**

> McR76 – reverse cuckold; consensual cheating; voyeurism – Jack and Gabriel are an item, but Gabriel likes to fuck McCree on the side. Jack knows and approves.

Everybody knows what is going on between the three of them, but in times like these – when Jesse is mid-fucking, trying to give it to Gabriel good and make him come on his cock – it feels like the younger man is conveniently (or inconveniently) forgetting their arrangement.

His face, when Gabriel shoves him away to let his wet cock slip out of the nice, warm hole he had been plowing, and his subsequent delegation into the wardrobe, is… priceless, to be quite honest.

He wonders what Jesse thinks when he peeks through the gap in the wardrobe door and watches Jack push Gabriel back onto the bed, not saying a word to how the sheets are rumpled or Gabriel’s hole is already fucked open and soft; wet enough for him to whip his dick out and let the wide tip nose against the silky gape.

Gabriel likes fucking Jesse, he’s a cute guy with a nice fat cock, but Jack is still his _partner,_ and his dick game is… a lot better.

Jesse is young, he’ll learn (probably), but for the moment it is still a battle against the clock whether Gabriel manages to come before the young man shoots his load and is useless for long enough that they can’t start a round two before Gabriel has to be at the next meeting.

Jack doesn’t mention a thing, but of course he knows why Gabriel is still short of breath, why he has been naked in the middle of the day, sporting a heavy erection swinging like a baseball bat between his thick thighs. Why there is a cowboy hat on the dresser. 

If anything, it seems to get him hotter. He is meaner about it than he usually would be; shoving Gabriel to have him fall back onto the bed, and growling something about just needing to pump his full balls into his cunt before having to be at another meeting.

The almost lazy lust that had been simmering in Gabriel’s gut flares up anew, more needy and hot than it had been previously, breath catching in his throat and hands scrabbling to grab at Jack’s shoulders until Jack snaps at him to not put wrinkles into his shirt and pins Gabriel’s hands above his head.

When he glances past Jack, he can see McCree’s face behind the crack of the door; his sweet brown eyes big and mouth a bit slack, and one arm moving in the gloomy darkness as he jerks his big wet cock and gets off on watching the Strike Commander manhandle his partner around like a cheap whore he dragged off of the street.

Gabriel spreads his knees obediently – eagerly – and wants to hook his ankles together behind Jack’s back, but Jack is sliding in suddenly, filling him up to the brim and making his head blessedly empty as he starts grunt fucking him. His legs are bouncing in the air, a bit uncoordinated, adding to the fire as Gabriel thinks about how he looks like a cheap whore, too; lying on his back with his legs in the air.

Where Jesse had been skirting right around the itch that has been driving Gabriel up the wall, Jack is directly scratching it and making his eyes roll up into his head.

He can only imagine what Jesse thinks about the display; about how loud Gabriel gets when Jack rides him like the devil, grunt fucking him into the mattress until the springs creak and his feet cramp where they are bouncing in the air because his orgasm is suddenly _so close_ and his head is reeling with how fast Jack can bring him to the edge.

He never gets this loud for Jesse. He doesn’t make much noise at all, unless Jesse has a particular hangdog expression and trying his hardest, bouncing around on Gabriel, trying to fuck him like it’s a punishment but only managing it in a way he hasn’t intended it to. Gabriel pities him in those instances and sighs at least a bit while rubbing the young man’s shoulders and letting him get his nipples sore with how he drags his beard across them while nursing.

Gabriel likes fucking Jesse – letting Jesse fuck him – because he is fascinated by how bad his dick game is. How someone with a cock like a bull can use it so spectacularly bad and still look so proud of himself. He gets off on him for the exact wrong reasons, but from what he can glimpse of the young man in the wardrobe, he feels like Jesse is in it for the exact same thing.

Maybe he is playing his ineptness up, even; _wants_ to be as bad as possible just to watch how much better Jack can give it to Gabriel.

Who knows.

Who _fucking_ knows.

Jack is drilling Gabriel’s prostate with a precision and meanness that has him almost howling, belly liquid hot and abdomen aching with how brutally he gets fucked. Jack looks like a maniac above him, his handsome face flushed a dark pink and his ice blue eyes staring at him with such a fierce lust that it almost looks murderous.

The fact that he is still in his uniform – that he will pump Gabriel full of cum and wipe his cock against his thigh and then walk away to his next meeting without a look back – has Gabriel scrambling for his cock, palm cupping the tip in mindless panic so he won’t shoot his load directly against Jack’s belly.

They’re all fucked up, probably, but if everybody’s having fun… there’s no harm in it, right?


	2. Lúcio/Reaper+Lúcio/Reinhardt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio/Gabriel + Lúcio/Reinhardt – ABO; Omegas Lúcio and Gabriel; Alpha Reinhardt; past abuse; mentions of fisting; dirty talk; praise kink – Lúcio is afraid but his pack has him.

Lúcio is all over Gabriel. He’s a feverish little package that is trying to simultaneously crawl into his lap and slip underneath his arm, hectic in a way that an Omega going into heat shouldn’t be.

Usually, heating Omegas get more lethargic when their body starts ramping up for it – Gabriel knows from his own experience how useless he is when he feels his heat starting up; how he will need someone from the pack, usually Jack or Reinhardt, to tend to him and care for him until he feels more like fucking and getting nasty.

Pre-heat is all about lazy comfort and feeling good.

Lúcio, however, is all over the place. He is puffing quick little gusts of air against Gabriel’s throat, intermittently whining all high-pitched and brittle as he tries to slip beneath the older Omega’s tanktop until Gabriel can hear a seam somewhere start to rip and he has to gently dissuade the young man from his futile endeavor.

Lúcio looks close to tears. His big brown eyes are swimming already, lips trembling and cheeks and shoulders darker from the feverish flush he’s worked up.

“Shhh,” Gabriel soothes gently. He drags a big hand down Lúcio’s back and slips his fingers into the back of his shorts, easily slipping between his cheeks to test how far along he already is.

He’s only started getting antsy and heat-y a few hours ago, and Gabriel is quietly shocked at how slick and soft he finds him already. He does not voice his concern; he doesn’t think Lúcio needs more uncertainty right now. Instead, he curls one thick arm around the young Omega’s waist and hauls him a little closer until he is straddling Gabriel’s thick thighs and clinging to him like a lifeline.

“You’re already so wet,” Gabriel murmurs into his ear, his pointer and middle finger lazily starting to circle Lúcio’s trembling little cunt. Like this, he encourages him to push out pheromones; the air is getting sweet and thick with it. He can taste them on the back of his tongue. He is quite sure it’ll only take a few moments until the first Alpha of their pack will come wandering in with their nose in the air, looking for the sweet little Omega that has gone unexpectedly into heat.

He’d bet everything that Jesse would be the first one, young and virile as he is, always ready to stuff one of their Omegas full to the brim with knot, but when the floor outside the room creaks and Gabriel looks up, it is the oldest Alpha of the pack looking inside.

It is probably for the better that it was Reinhardt who found them; he brings the calm that is needed to gentle Lúcio through what is for all intents and purposes his first heat.

And it’s going to be a hard one.

“Little precocious slut,” Gabriel murmurs, but his tone of voice makes the harsh words sound more like a sweet endearment than anything else. Lúcio is not answering much; he is just breathing quick and distraught, shaken by how fast his body has ramped up all of a sudden. He freezes in Gabriel’s arms when he scents the Alpha that has came in, a reedy whine of distress caught in his throat, and Gabriel shushes him, eyes fixed on Reinhardt.

The old Alpha’s face is solemn even though there’s a flush on his cheeks. He comes closer, sitting himself down gingerly on the edge of one of the armchairs. He looks ready to jump up and take care of the little Omega at a moment’s notice, but for now keeps put and watches from a safe distance as Lúcio sounds close to tears – or a panic attack – while simultaneously dragging his chin along Gabriel’s shoulder, scenting him.

Amorous and afraid all in one.

“Nobody has to touch you except me,” Gabriel assures Lúcio in a low, intimate murmur. He’s not exactly used to being the focal point of a young Omega, but Lúcio is disarmingly sweet. He just tends to get beneath someone’s skin in the sweetest way possible.

“I can take care of you… Spread your slutty little hole on my fist if you want to. Better than any Alpha knot for sure…”

Reinhardt shifts, restless; he looks like he wants to argue that nothing could feel as good as being held down by him and speared on his big meaty Alpha dick, but he keeps quiet, huge hands clasped tightly between his knees.

Lúcio whimpers, arching his back and sticking out his ass until Gabriel starts fucking one thick finger into the creamy heat he is offering up.

Nobody knows for certain what the Alphas at Vishkar have done to Lúcio, but whatever they did – or what he has seen them do – has left a quite memorable impression on the young Omega.

“You’re a good little whore… look at you… showing off that gorgeous cunt you got. Why don’t you show it to your Alpha, though? Bet he’d like to see what a cute snatch you got. How he’s gonna spread it out on his dick…”

Lúcio whimpers and shakes his head, but when Gabriel starts tugging at the little shorts he’s wearing, he obediently lifts his hips.

Reinhardt breathes out harshly when Gabriel spreads Lúcio’s cheeks with both hands and lets him see how soft and plump and juicy his heating Omega hole has become. He drags one big hand across his mouth, the rasp of his beard loud in the room; but he stays right where he is, just watching as Gabriel shoves a couple fingers back into Lúcio and lets him ride those.

“There you go… there you go. Nothing’s going to happen to you here. I’ll make sure of it. You’re mine, first and foremost.”

And to prove his point, he turns his head, dragging his chin along Lúcio’s hairline, scenting him in turn.


	3. McCree/Reaper/Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel/Jack/Jesse – continuation of B20F3 – werewolves!Gabriel and Jesse; knotting; extreme inflation; consensual (?) rape; faux beastiality – The wolves start fighting and Jack is right in the middle.

There’s a pressure against Jack’s rim that is so gradual that he doesn’t even realize it at first, too occupied with lapping wet and sloppy across the canine cock presented to him. His fist is around the base holding it pointing to his face. The huge black wolf is calm enough, patiently lying on his side and letting the human service him. His cock is… abnormally hot, the skin so thin that Jack can see all the delicate veins beneath which makes the slippery dick look obscenely red from a distance.

He is too preoccupied with cataloguing all these different informations; from how musky it smells to how salty it tastes; how it makes his glands produce so much saliva it is difficult not to drool like he’s one of them; just let his tongue hang out and dribble down his chin.

He wants to start moving his fist; slowly jerk the animal off, when he finally takes note of what is happening behind him; how the formerly long smooth cock starts catching at his rim the longer the hairy beast on his back is dicking him. His brain stalls, unable to comprehend, until some long forgotten fact about dogs and _knots_ resurfaces from… somewhere.

His belly clenches into a tight fist of fear, horror imagery of being ripped apart running through his head. He twists half-way, trying to push the dog off of him, only to be reminded just how damnably _huge_ this one is as well; all brown scraggly fur and a muzzle full of sharp teeth, bad hot breath huffing into Jack’s sweaty face as the monster grins at him wide.

“No, no, no,” he whispers, hand letting go off the cock he has been servicing, to brace himself properly while he tries to shove the creature off of him, the spread of the knot just behind his rim making tears spring up into his eyes – until suddenly it stops just this side of pleasurable, and the wolf falls down on his back with a groan; drawn out and happy sounding as Jack’s ears throb in time with his heart beat when he feels the beast come and pump him full.

Maybe it is the sound of his friend’s satisfaction; or maybe it is Jack no longer jerking him off, but the black wolf suddenly gets up, growling. The sound is like straight from hell. It vibrates through the ground and up Jack’s arms and makes him feel like pissing himself; especially when the two beasts start fighting on his back, snapping at each other while he’s still quite firmly bound to one of them.

“Hey! Hey, calm down!” he tries, voice shaking and brittle, a pathetic cry ripped from his throat as the black dog snaps his teeth at the other, causing him to nervously dance around and try to pull away.

He somehow manages to put them ass to ass, his knot pulling so hard at Jack’s rim that his ears are starting to ring, his cock – useless fucking thing – drooling into the dirt he is kneeling on. 

They are growling at each other, gnashing their teeth and trying to get at each other’s throat, and Jack wouldn’t give a single fuck if he weren’t the stupid bitch caught in the middle, speared on the hot, slippery dick of one of them and currently getting his guts rearranged as he tries to pull out far too quickly.

The black wolf is raising hell, not calming down until the brown one finally manages to forcibly pull his knot out… and Jack is humiliated by the fact that it makes almost the exact same sound as pulling out a cork would. He feels light headed as his blood rushes into his head, knees weak and wobbly as he wants to let himself just lie down and try to pretend like nothing of this has happened…

Until the black wolf suddenly mounts up and he is forced to remain kneeling on all fours if he doesn’t want them to focus their aggressive energy back on him.

God, how could it have come to this? How could they have so thoroughly overwhelmed him and made him their bitch?

The brown wolf slinks around them. He gives off the distinct air of pouting as he lies down with a slump an arm’s length away from them, one eye on the two of them coupling while he twists to slowly lick his angry red cock still out, knot looking shockingly big at the base. Jack gapes at it. He can’t believe he actually took that monster.

He gets distracted by the wolf on his back who is fucking like he’s possessed. Jack cries out in alarm, scrabbling, trying to find purchase and only grabbing the soft dirt he is kneeling on. His arms slide away from him, face smearing into the soil as the wolf fucks him like a demon, pounding into him and making his rim feel on fire.

It’s still gentle compared to the feeling of getting spread on his knot, though. Tears spring up in Jack’s eyes, then start running down his cheeks, turning the relatively dry earth into muddy streaks as he tries to comprehend the massive, inhuman stretch that his body is forced into.

The wolf is panting hot and wet into his neck, finally satisfied as he’s fucked the possessive rage right into Jack’s belly.

And Jack’s cock, the _stupid fuck_ , is still painfully hard for all of this indignity.


	4. Reaper/Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R76 – ABO; Alpha/Alpha; accidental knotting; knotting in mouth (lets just pretend it is possible and wouldn’t choke him to death :’) ) – Gabriel and Jack are still young and this is Gabriel’s first time getting a blow job. It’s his only excuse.

It’s not like they haven’t done this before. It’s not like Gabriel is a _virgin_ , or anything, even. He’s fucked a few Omegas before enlisting in the military, and he’s engaged in a few mutual handjobs with other Alphas after that.

It’s been an eye opener to realize that he is more into the thick spicy scent of another Alpha than the soft fragrance of an Omega, but having gotten to know Jack had smoothed the transition quite considerably.

Jack is an asshole, but Gabriel doesn’t mind. Doesn’t mind at all. It makes experimenting a lot more fun, to be honest, even if it is a bit… embarrassing at times.

Like now, getting his first ever blowjob and feeling like he is about to blow his load seconds into Jack popping the blunt tip of his cock between the nice tight seal of his lips.

“Shit,” he whispers emphatically, head sinking back because he knows if he watches Jack with his shock of blond hair and his bright blue eyes glance up at him, he really won’t be able to keep himself from coming.

Jack hums. It’s not helping, except that it is. Jack has a voice like he gurgled razor blades. It does not fit his sunnyboy look, but Gabriel does not complain; he likes feeling it scrape along his nerve endings. He _really_ likes feeling it vibrate along his dick as Jack slowly lets him slip in deeper, but it also makes it so much more difficult to keep from coming, and he can’t help but hectically reach down and grab his balls, pulling them away from his body a bit too mean, and trying to focus on the unpleasant sensation instead of Jack chuckling.

When he glances down with one eye, Jack’s face looks like he wants to gloat but can’t with his lips stretched around Gabriel’s cock.

“Shut up,” Gabriel hisses, carefully letting go off his full balls, coasting a bit more on the feeling of Jack’s tongue fluttering against the underside of his shaft, carefully working his way down the sturdy cock.

He’s felt nice warm Omega cunts around him, but he thinks they are not quite as nice as feeling Jack Morrison’s mouth on his cock and his throat trying to open up for the wide tip. Either Jack has done this a lot more often, or he has seen a lot more porn, because there’s just a soft, wet clicking sound that his throat makes and suddenly, Gabriel is slipping in a lot deeper, the squishy heat engulfing him and making his toes tingle.

“Shit… fuck,” Gabriel hisses, his knees lifting as he curls forward, hands fluttering nervously around Jack’s head, unsure about the etiquette when one gets a blowjob and just needs to… just needs to _grab on_  to something.

In the end, he curls his arms around Jack’s head and awkwardly hugs him to his heaving belly because he can only dedicate so much brain power to not looking like a total virgin while his abdomen feels molten and shivery and his balls are pulsing like he hasn’t emptied them in weeks.

“Jack,” he croaks, voice sounding pitiful. Jack is not answering. Gabriel is not sure he even heard him over his efforts of swallowing Gabriel down and making it sound as lewd as he possibly can because he is an _asshole_ , and Gabriel is rethinking his decision about liking that trait of him.

His throat is making wet clicking sounds whenever he moves his head in the tight grip Gabriel has on him, and when he goes especially deep and makes himself gag on Gabriel’s dick, he makes sure to gurgle nice and sloppy, the sound accompanied by the feeling of his throat squeezing tight and hot and wet around Gabriel’s tip, stars exploding behind his eyes.

“Jack!” he calls again when he can suddenly feel an orgasm sneaking up on him, quick and positively mean and with such vehemence that he knows without a doubt he won’t be able to hold it back. “Jack!!!”

He would be flushing if he had any blood left to do so. Everything seems to be in his abdomen, making sure his cock is as ridiculously fat as it is, his knot _tingling_ and his hands uselessly scrabbling at Jack’s shoulders, trying to push him off and bring distance between them so he won’t knot his…

...his mouth. He knotted his mouth, locked behind the other Alpha’s teeth, and Jack is making soft choking sounds. Gabriel panics, trying to figure out what to fucking _do_ now; but he is also coming and it is so goddamn difficult to think straight when his balls are pulsing out string after string of cum and Jack doesn’t even have to swallow because Gabriel is pumping all his cream directly where it needs to go.

Gabriel leans back, sluggishly alarmed, horror scenarios of dislocating Jack’s jaw or suffocating him on his cock playing around his head until he sees Jack’s face; flushed a delicate pink all over, eyes glassy and lips slack – as much as that is possible – as he has to helplessly hang on for the ride.

Gabriel has knotted him and there is no way for him to pull back now; he can only sit pretty on his knees and try to breathe and not accidentally choke while getting his gag reflex put to the test as creamy cum is shot down his throat.

When their eyes finally meet, the embarrassed apology dies on Gabriel’s tongue. Jack is really into this.

And they have a few more minutes to think about what they’ve done.


	5. Reinhardt/McCree+McHanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reinhardt/McCree + McHanzo – continuation B20F4 – rape/non-con/dub-con; mind break; blood; belly bulge; extreme size difference – Overwatch tries to rescue McCree. Hanzo is fascinated despite himself.

When the door opens and the Overwatch agents spill in, McCree does not react much, and Reinhardt is supremely disappointed by it; but only for a moment. It means that his pet is broken in, he supposes. Or maybe it means that McCree is just so thoroughly overwhelmed by the cock spearing into his guts, that he can’t make himself notice anything else but the burn of his rim and the gurgling in his belly.

The reaction of the Overwatch agents is all the more sweeter for Reinhardt. He slowly smiles at their horrified faces, one good eye searching them until he finds the archer, pushing Agent Tracer to the side with a seemingly limp hand, stumbling forward to have a better look at his partner getting it good by a different man.

“We have guests,” Reinhardt announces, loud enough for the silent agents to hear. McCree does not react other than a wet gurgle from his throat. He is lying back against Reinhardt’s chest, arms bound in front of him, just above the stiff line of his overwhelmed dick that has never stopped being confused yet eager about the proceedings.

Reinhardt can ride McCree as hard as he will; can make him cry and sob and piss himself in fear, and yet his cock will remain hard and steadfast, never losing hope that _this_ time will be the time it gets to finally come and unload those overripe balls swinging between the cowboy’s hairy thighs.

“Don’t be rude now,” Reinhardt tells him with a slightly dangerous edge to his voice. He grabs McCree’s scraggly unkempt hair and drags his head up so he is forced to blearily stare at his erstwhile comrades. There is no real recognition in his gaze.

He stares at them obediently, but his mouth remains slack, his gaze all but vacant. Only when Reinhardt curves his hips upwards, nudging more of his cock into his intestines and pulling attention to the immense, grotesque bulge of McCree’s belly, does a bit of awareness come back into his heavy lidded brown eyes.

“L… leave him!” Agent Tracer says now, voice shaking with horror, eyes big and disgusted. The rest of the squad; the little frog and cryogenic scientist, don’t look much better. They look like they have seen a ghost; like they will need extensive therapy after this. 

Everyone looks _horrified_ – except the archer. His mouth is soft and slack, yes, but his eyes are big, roaming McCree lying back against Reinhardt’s chest, stretched out like a banquet. A puppet with its strings cut.

Reinhardt wonders just how long the archer had been fantasizing about his partner just like this; useless and fucked stupid. A receptacle for Shimada to pour his attention into.

Or maybe it had never crossed his mind until that point. Until seeing McCree as nothing more than a fuckdoll, his rim spread impossibly wide around the inhumanly large shaft.

McCree has been long enough with Talon that he’s lost some muscle definition in his belly – all the better to show off just how deep the cock is reaching in his guts. How it looks like it must have displaced his stomach just to make more room for cock. More room to be filled up.

Reinhardt has fucked him often enough in front of a mirror to know how painful it looks; like the tip should be knocking against his lungs and make it difficult to breathe.

Agent Shimada does not seem to mind, per se. The grip around his bow is slack, but his high cheekbones are dusted pink.

“Let go of him!” Agent Zhou demands as well. Reinhardt smiles at them congenially but maybe there is a bit too much teeth in it because they do look even more unsettled, if anything.

“I’m not holding him,” he assures them, lifting his hands away to demonstrate. McCree slides a bit deeper onto his cock, his thick thighs spread wide on Reinhardt’s lap. He gurgles as his cock spears into him even deeper, impossibly so, and stays sitting right where he is.

“See? He likes it.” He puts his hands back on McCree’s hips and slowly lifts him up a few inches to let them see the blood smearing his shaft and making everything just as slippery as the lube he used initially. It was too little, of course – it always is – but McCree stopped sobbing about it after the second or third time.

Old whores usually get used to their place pretty quickly. They are an adaptive bunch, and Reinhardt can respect that.

Shimada’s gaze is locked on the obscene stretch of his partner’s bloody rim. His chest is heaving, and when he lifts his eyes finally and looks at Reinhardt, Reinhardt winks at him.

The archer’s face suddenly hardens. He lifts his bow and draws an arrow, nocking it and aiming right at Reinhardt’s face.

“Let him go. Now.”

Reinhardt keeps smiling, and lifts his own hand, gun procured from behind McCree’s back. He puts it to the slut’s temple and lifts his bushy eyebrows.

The tip of the arrow is trembling just slightly. Hanzo is scowling fiercely but can’t keep his eyes from twitching to the grotesque bulge in his partner’s belly or stare at the obscenely hard line of his cock.

“I hope you haven’t damaged any of my property, breaking into here,” Reinhardt tells them gently, then slowly draws back the hammer of the gun because he appreciates the antique weapons and the drama that comes with them. “...otherwise I might have to damage something that is yours.”

They stare at him, caught in a stalemate, and Reinhardt throws his head back, laughing loud.


	6. Reed/RK900

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin900 – reluctant rimming; Gavin’s potty mouth – Nines has miscalculated the outcome of the afternoon but he is not nearly as upset as he should be.

“I’m not- no! Get fuckin’ _off_ of me you plastic prick!”

Gavin is struggling, squirming and trying to slip away from RK900’s calm, firm grip. Of course, he is not struggling _too_ much. He does not want to get away; not really. He just wants to appear like he hates being forced on his knees and gagging on Nines’ cock.

It is illogical, but so are the humans unfortunately. There’s a pressure indicator at the corner of Nines’ vision, letting him know just how hard he is squeezing Gavin’s wrists as he pushes them over his head and just how much he can bear down more before the bones and ligaments might take damage.

“Detective. Cease your struggling,” he murmurs, switching around until he can clamp Gavin’s arms beneath his shins. The Detective grunts when he gets reminded just how _heavy_ an android can be.

“Get fuckin _off_ of me!” Gavin screeches instead of simply complying with Nines’ demands, and Nines has to keep from heaving a sigh. Androids do not need to sigh, obviously, but it is just one more of the humans’ mannerisms that he has found invaluable at times to keep his processors from overclocking and having him do something that would be very effective, yes, but is by human standards illegal.

“You have agreed to this.”

“I have no such fuckin’ thing!”

“Alright tin can,” Nines echoes the recording back at him, and he can tell by the way Gavin’s breath hitches and he goes still  beneath him that he is disturbed by the sound of his own voice coming out of the android’s throat. “If you get off my nuts for _one fuckin’ goddamn second_ , we can do somethin’ you like. Let me watch my fuckin’ game.”

“I would appreciate your cooperation,” Nines continues in his own voice; cooler and more collected than Gavin could ever be. Always.

The Detective is shocked into silence. Peeking down, Nines can make out how very red his face has become. He nods to himself, then carefully sits himself down on the human’s face. He has opted not to wear his male presenting genitals today, as not to obstruct the view of Gavin’s face, but now he realizes that he would have liked to see him smothered beneath the soft synthetic sac that the scientists have molded into a lovingly accurate and perfect replica of human testicles.

He hadn’t thought of the option, which is rather frustrating for a machine as advances as he; he had only been constructing and reconstruction the immediate gratification of sitting down on the unruly human’s face and having him tongue at the posterior orifice that he seems so obsessed with for all the times that he’s calling Nines an asshole through the course of any given day.

Oh well. There was nothing to do about it now; he couldn’t get up and retrieve his attachment now because he is 98.7% sure that Gavin would stop being an obedient little human the second he even has a moment to think about why he shouldn’t be doing this.

Nines cards his fingers into the Detective’s hair and grips tight, making him tilt his head back and chin up. He carefully sits himself down until he can’t even see the scar across the back of the Detective’s nose.

“You promised,” is all he needs to say, calm and calculated, before Gavin gets on with it. His eyes are big and soft looking up until the point that he closes them tightly and opens his mouth. The Detective is a man with a lot of complexes. While he surely would like to call himself a _complex_ man, Nines thinks he is anything but. Like now when he gets him to shut up and just open his mouth and drag his slippery organic tongue against his posterior orifice.

Nines jerks as nerves online that he hadn’t known before. Information scrolls past his vision, the synthetic skin pulling reflexively away from his fingers, leaving them stark white and plastic where they are buried in the Detective’s hair as his processes suddenly reroute themselves to investigate the new sensation.

Gavin has completely stopped whining and pretending like he’s being forced in favor of softly licking at Nines’ orifice. He would never have thought how… _soft_ and… _warm_ … of course he had known that human tongues are exceptionally agile and slippery muscles but-

Nines realizes that he has to stop preconstructing when it is about Gavin. This is the second time in some five minutes that Nines has not been prepared, and the thought shames him deeply. Of course his software has been designed with the intent to learn, but he still doesn’t like realizing that there are things that are slipping through his grasp.

Like the fact that the scientists have thought it prudent to outfit him with these sensitive little sensors and none of his programs had alerted him to the fact.

Gavin is lapping at him again, softly lapping at the silky, synthetic skin, then wriggling the tip at the center of the orifice as if trying to squirm his way inside, and Nines makes a sound and flushes hot with embarrassment at how staticky and glitchy it sounds.

Gavin’s arms flex beneath his shins as if he wants to move them; maybe grab a hold of Nines as the android can’t help but grind down against his face.

He had miscalculated a lot this afternoon… he is rather satisfied with the results, though.


	7. Hank/Connor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HankCon – first time/first orgasm; big dick Hank –They think that Connor is not made for this... until Hank pushes his buttons right.

Connor is fine getting fucked for the first time – until he isn’t anymore. He had been content with his legs hooked over Hank’s arms, feet gently bouncing in the air and his hands against Hank’s furry, flabby chest, feeling him up – until Hank changed a bit of his angle and everything suddenly became a lot more needy and hot and immediate.

He’s figured up until this ten minute mark that Connor probably really had been just built for detective work and that sexual functions were a bit out of his league (and from Connor’s mildly interested and indulgent facial expression he is suitably sure that the android had thought the same). However, maybe he just hadn’t had the right angle… hadn’t pushed the right button.

Because right now it feels that way; like he’s pushed a button. His big stupid cock nosing against a hidden little node inside the android that made him spring to life and made sensation frizz along his synthetic nerve endings.

Suddenly, Connor is anything but a content little flower just gently feeling Hank’s chest and belly up and looking like he is having the time of his life analyzing his sweat and the rate at which his heart is pumping.

His long skinny arms flail, almost hitting Hank in the face before curling around the Lieutenant’s neck and shoulders, grabbing at his long grey hair and pulling painfully while his voice warbles a shocked “HAAaaAAnk?!”

Hank huffs softly. There’s been the slightest hitch in his hips before he resumes his work. He’s had the same kind of rhythm since learning how to use his dick in someone else and he’s not going to let a shivery virgin android get him out of that rut.

“Hank!” Connor says again, accusatory, his knees trying to clamp around Hank’s ribcage until he shifts his arms and grabs one of the knobby, freckled knees and pushes Connor’s leg roughly to the side and down, pinning it to the bed and rendering him helpless (or as helpless as an out-of-shape human can render a perfect silicone being).

Connor is staring at him with his mouth hanging open in a small, pink ‘o’. Hank can see his perfect slippery tongue between the row of his perfect, white, titanium teeth.

God, these perverts at CyberLife were _good_.

“What is it?” Hank grunts back, a bit out of breath and a lot smug. He keeps plowing into Connor, his fat gut dragging against the Android’s slender, pretty cock. It feels a lot stiffer than it had been before.

Connor looks shocked and overwhelmed and like he’s pissed at his own body for betraying him like this.

“Hank, I… I think something’s not right-” He’s slurring a bit which definitely strokes Hank’s ego.

Hank pushes in, dragging his cock along the rippling inside of Connor’s body, and says over the Android’s static chirping: “Feels more than right to me if you ask me…”

He does slow down some, though, just to check in that there’s no serious problem with his partner. He comes to a stop buried deep inside him, cock doing a slow flex as if protesting the holdup. 

Connor, the little idiot, looks at him offended and even more shocked than before.

“Why did you stop?!”

“I thought you said something’s not right…”

“Don’t stop!”

Hank huffs a laugh and shakes his head, picking up the movement again, first slow then slowly working himself back up to his original rhythm. His ex-wife had told him he fucks like a goddamn tank and he supposes she’s right about that.

Connor does not seem to mind; not at all. He stares at Hank with a little crick between his eyebrows. He looks almost angry if not for the furious blue flush on his cheeks. Hank finds himself wondering whether that is a function Connor had come equipped with and what kind of purpose it had originally been made to serve, but Connor’s insides are ribbed like some kind of fancy fleshlight toy and it is difficult to find a clear thought when he’s trembling around him and squeezing gently like his whole body is giving Hank’s cock a hug.

“This is… this is very different than…”

“Don’t tell me you fuckin’ preconstructed gettin’ your cherry popped by me,” Hank groans. He lets go off Connor’s leg and braces himself on his elbow instead, pressing his forehead against Connor’s collar bone. He doesn’t know if he should find the thought of Connor preconstructing and reconstructing getting dicked by him.

His hips keep up their steady pumping, spearing the kid on his cock again and again. He wonders if Connor feels as bloated by cock as his ex-wife had. (She’s always been vocal about telling him the kinds of things his dick made her feel).

Connor is making sounds now, and Hank can’t even remember the name of his ex-wife anymore.

They’re soft and staticky and nervous sounding like he is afraid of what is building inside him.

“Hank,” he whines, clutching at him, shivery, his skin starting to retract and leaving his plastic exposed and cool against Hank’s heated skin. “Hank, what… I feel all…”

There’s a soft electronic popping noise and Hank breathes out harshly, slowing his fucking down after all into a sensual deep push and pull.

“You’re coming,” he croons. “Coming on my cock like a good boy, Connor…”

He holds him through it, pressing him down with his bulk so he won’t hurt himself even though that is practically not possible.

He crushes Connor down into the bed while the Android chirps and crackles and – very memorable – _beeps_.

Fuck, they need to do this more often.


	8. Shoji/Fem!Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shoji/Fem!Reader – tentacle sex; weird anatomy; little bit scary anatomy – You sneak into Shoji’s dorm room almost nightly.

Neither you nor Shoji are really the _rebellious_ types, but since you both started this… _thing_ , you find yourself sneaking into the 3-A dorms at night more often than you keep in your own wing of the complex.

It’s a bit of an addiction, probably, but neither of you really wants to stop and wean off of it. It’s not like it interferes with any of your studies; getting fucked into a hazy stupor each night actually does wonders to your disposition which is usually a bit nervous and anxious.

Shoji has grown even more since you first saw him in the entrance exams, and while the same is true for you as well, he still is ranging above you – like he is now when you slip into his room and gently close the door, trying for once to surprise him but finding yourself immediately backed into the door.

One of his tentacles comes closer to his face, its end a smaller replica of his mouth as it whispers into your face: “Heard you.”

Indeed, the other tips of his tentacles are still ears, but even as you glance, they start melting away into more nondescript tips. Ready for some more shenanigans. You immediately flush eagerly, the tips of your tits going hard and needy.

He watches you like a hawk from beneath the stiff fringe of his hair. The tentacle mouth bumps your earlobe gently.

“I’ve been pent up the whole day,” he croons with his extra mouth even though he is not wearing his customary mask. His real mouth is grinning down at you, muzzle split into a wide grin, showing off rows and rows of sharp black teeth which are curving a bit inwards and are not able to be hidden by his lips.

It is a freaky sight, and it weirded you out the first time, but by now you are used to it and have made acquaintance to the razor sharp edges and how easy it would be for him to hurt you.

In your mind you call them shark teeth, but had you been more acquainted to aquatic life you would know that they are octopus beaks.

“Yeah?” you finally whisper back, eyes fixed on his unmoving, grinning mouth. You shudder from head to toe as a small tongue slips along the outside of your ear, breath first hitching, then coming in quick, excited puffs as he uses his two thick, muscular arms to pin you against the door, hands framing your shoulders, while his tentacles spread out and curl around you, tugging you closer against his thickly muscled body.

You can feel the little stumps of two starting to slip into the back of your little sleep pants, tugging them down until you clench your knees together in reflex to keep yourself from being exposed.

He makes a complicated clacking sound somewhere in his throat which he is not quite able to do with his little duplicate mouths, then tugs more insistently, all but ripping them down your legs.

Heat surges through your body, ending in a delicious slow drip between the plump lips of your labia. There’s a bit of fear still even though you know he wouldn’t do a thing to you. He’s big and burly and dangerous looking, but he is in the hero course just like you. You trust him.

His rooms are barren; just a desk and his sleeping mat which he has already prepared but does not seem inclined to use tonight.

“Take it out,” he croons against your ear. The cocoon of skin and muscle around you is shivering with anticipation. “Take it out and I’m going to sit you on it. You have to be real quiet. Don’t want any of the others to hear that you’re bouncing on my dick, do you?”

There’s always a playful lilt to his words. He looks so severe, his almost reptilian eyes staring at you like he wants to pin you like a butterfly, but his scary mouth is still grinning at you. While you jerk into action, fumbling with the drawstring of his sleep pants, his jaw slightly opens, showing you his red, slick tongue slowly undulating in his mouth as if he is thinking about fucking it into you.

You remember the last time well; on your back, holding your legs helpfully out of the way while Shoji’s scary sharp toothed mouth had been between your trembling thighs.

You gush a bit more, then squeak in surprise when one of his tentacles gently slips between your legs from behind and starts dragging against your plump little cunt. It makes you clench your teeth and try not to bear down on it right until the moment you can feel it morph into a little mouth and his tongue starts dragging against your sensitive insides.

You make a sharp, high-pitched sound, then jerk one arm up to clamp your hand over your mouth, looking at him shocked and aroused. Shoji’s jaw opens even wider. He laughs softly, using his actual throat for once. It is a bit deeper than the voice of his tentacles, and has you panting in hot little puffs into the cup of your palm.

You don’t know how you manage to remain quiet when he lifts you up and sits you on his cock. You are biting at the palm of your hand first, then at the flesh of your inner arm second as his cock slides into you long and fat and weirdly slimy. You haven’t had a good look at it yet. You know that there are a ton of weird bumps all around it and that they feel _fucking amazing_  popping into your clutching, swollen channel.

When you finally get to play with it eye-to-eye you won’t be surprised to find out that Shoji’s cock is littered in little suction cups. Not surprised at all. And definitely fucking turned on.


	9. Endeavor/Rei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Endeavor/Rei – finger fucking, femdom, virginity kink – Rei takes care of her big dumb baby.

People tend to be afraid of her husband, but Rei knows for a fact that he’s nothing but a puppy. He likes to pretend like he’s so big and bad and fearsome, but it is difficult to be anything but quietly amused about him when you have shared a bed with him.

For one, Enji seems to be absolutely incapable of being a pervert which had vexed Rei to no end. His body had been his own saving grace in their whole doomed marriage, and realizing that he’s been all but a virgin to the point of slipping beneath the covers with her and fucking her missionary style in a dark room had almost made her laugh out in disbelief right then and there, speared on his big magma hot dick.

But oh well. She is not an idiot. She can work with that. With her big dumb baby of a husband.

He’s easily manipulated.

When his masseuse cancels their appointment (because Rei called her and told her to do so) he stomps into their home and orders – _orders_ – Rei to do the honors. She pretends like she is reluctantly following along, then watches him undress in their bedroom and lying down on the mattress of their gargantuan bed because nothing else would be able to hold his massive, meaty weight.

He is as shy about being naked as a school boy, but apparently not when it is about getting tended to during a massage.

She takes a moment to admire his muscled back and impossibly fat thighs while she pours scented oil into the palm of her hand.

She is not trained in giving massages and he will undoubtedly complain as if it were her fault, but she intends to make him shut up very quickly.

He sighs when she puts her hands on the backs of his thighs and slowly drags upwards with gentle pressure.

Enji, being her big dumb baby, isn’t even confused at her starting at the sensitive backs of his knees instead of at his shoulders.

There’s not a single perverted bone in his delicious big body and when she drags her palms across his tight ass cheeks he only huffs again gently and does not seem worried.

It makes Rei wonder how far his masseuse had taken this little game. She has no doubt that the lady must have felt him up without him even realizing it happening. She wonders just how often this other woman has watched his little hole when she pushed at his ass cheeks and spread them just enough to get a glimpse of it.

He is huge all over; but here, Enji is cute and small and so unbelievably delicious looking that she wants to lean down and bury her face between his cheeks and her tongue up his ass.

She can restrain herself – just so – and does not tongue fuck her husband while he’s trying to relax after a long, arduous day at work.

What she does instead, is slip her index finger between his cheeks and gently brush across that pouty little muscle.

Enji freezes at that but does not turn around. He doesn’t make a sound. He looks like he’s stopped breathing, to be quite fair. Rei is sure he thinks it must have been an accident, so she makes sure to show that it has been anything but and tickles his little cunt.

“Rei!” he suddenly hisses, absolutely horrified and scandalized. He does not look back because he is too shy for that, but he starts blindly grasping at her with his huge hand. She ducks underneath it and just slips her oil slick finger into him to the last knuckle.

No foreplay, no teasing, just her with her slender finger up her husband’s ass and her other hand grabbing the bottle of oil she had put strategically close.

She pours a generous amount of silky oil at the top of his crack and watches it with a little grin slide down and pool around his little virgin cunt, then drip farther down to collect behind his big meaty breeder balls.

“Rei,” he says again but it is choked off and a bit high-pitched. He has stopped groping for her and is instead clutching at the sheets of the bed. His shoulders are about as red as his hair.

His insides feel as molten as one would expect from the Flame Hero but she has the perfect counter.

He sounds pained when he feels her slightly freezing finger start wriggling inside the tight, trembling clench of his insides.

It has been so… easy. Just so hilariously easy that Rei has to bite her lip to keep from laughing at him as she starts finger banging her husband with one innocent little digit while he makes a scene as if she is fisting his virgin cunt dry.

He is so cute. So _sweet_.

She presses with her cool fingertip against his swollen prostate, rounding it through the thin membrane of his intestines, and Enji doesn’t _howl_ , per se, but his fat thighs do open shyly and he angles his hips into the sensation while he buries his face in his pillow.

There are thin billows of smoke rising. She can smell the slight burn of the fabric.

With his hips up, she can see his beautiful fat cock that he has no idea how to properly use. He’s a big dumb breeding bull. She reaches beneath him and curls her other slippery fist around his dick.

He bucks into the grip like a colt, stuck between a rock and a hard place and so deliciously confused about how quickly the tables have turned from him ordering his wife to give him a massage to her finger fucking his tight snatch and fondling his big heavy dick.

“Things are going to change now,” she tells him gently, then forces a second finger into him. 


	10. Genji/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shimadacest – 300 word drabble; identity porn – Genji hadn’t known how big of a fan Hanzo is.

Genji only realizes just how long it has been since he last set foot into his brother’s rooms when he hauls the drunk man in through the window.

Strangely enough, the rooms look more childish than when he’s last seen them. He gapes at the posters of… Well… Himself, hanging off the walls and all the little figurines of the Green Sentai - some of them real rarities.

“Oh…” He says softly, voice contorted - but not as much as his belly as it tightly curls in on itself.

Hanzo groans, hanging off of him and blearily looking around. He does not seem embarrassed about being found out. Genji guesses after being found in an alleyway sucking dick and blackout drunk, there is not much that can ping on Hanzo’s embarrassment scala anymore.

Hanzo stares around a bit more. It takes a while to register that they are in his rooms. When the information hits, he swings around in Genji’s arm and hangs around his neck by two arms. Genji has never seen his big brother so… Undignified.

“Let me thank you,” Hanzo slurs and drops down before Genji can catch him.

“You don’t need to…” he murmurs, but his protest sounds faint even in his own ears.

“Green Sentai…” Hanzo groans drunkenly and it should not be hot, but it really, really is. Even when he chokes on Genji’s cock, gurgling wet and greedy on it as he tries to fuck his throat on it - Genji has never been so rock hard in his life.

After a moment of hesitation, he grabs at Hanzo’s hair, fascinated by the sight of his white gloves in the ink black strands, then holds him still as he starts to pop the flared tip of his cock past the tight entrance to Hanzo’s throat again and again. Every time Hanzo gags and drools a bit more.

“My biggest fan,” he rasps and Hanzo looks ecstatic.


	11. Aziraphale/Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale/Crowley – humiliation kink; praise kink; dirty talk; double snake peen – Aziraphale doesn’t have it in him to humiliate Crowley. Except when he does.

“Oh… Oh would you just _look_ at you. Positively… Positively sublime, yes.”

Aziraphale is having this indulgent look on his face; the one that makes him look like a little old lady bend over a stroller looking at a particularly fat cheeked baby. Or the one he always wears when Crowley tempts him to another pastry and bullies him into it when Aziraphale pretends like he is on a diet and really really shouldn’t but just wants an excuse to indulge himself anyway (how… Gluttonous…).

He definitely does not look like someone should when they are trying their damndest (hah) to deep dick a demon.

Crowley takes one look at him, then pulls a face, whines and throws his arms over his face so he does not have to see it while he is spread out beneath his rival, knees angled far to the sides in a way he knows Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to accomplish.

“Angel!” He complains. It sounds petulant and a bit on the teary side but he does not care much; not when touching Aziraphale hurts just _this_ bit, and he is speared open on what is a delightfully fat cock. Fat and not too long; just like its Master who is shushing him and reaching out, curling soft fingers around Crowley’s wrist to tease his arm away from his face.

“Oh no. I do so love your eyes, Crowley. Please-“

“Angel!” Crowley hisses, sharply this time, brows drawn in a frown. His cheeks are trying to be as red as his hair. Aziraphale looks startled for a moment, stopping his slow, self-indulgent rocking into Crowley’s magma hot insides.

“Oh! Oh, yes. Of course. Please excuse me. I meant of course…”

His round, congenial face scrunches up as he searches for something to say as he finally takes up fucking the demon once more. Crowley sighs and closes his eyes. He wants to grab at Aziraphale’s shoulders and pull him down; make him press the length of his short, chubby body against him and make it burn all over while he tries to fuck mean but only manages a slightly rougher thrust than he normally would do.

“You are a… a harlot, of course. The way you lie there… Spread out and open and… And _trusting_ yourself to me. What a little…” Aziraphale’s voice drops into a hushed whisper: “ _Slut_.”

The way he pronounces it; so delicately enunciates the t, followed by his anxious silence as he holds his breath and waits if he has gone too far, has Crowley groaning and tilt his head back, offering his throat.

“Yes… Yesyesyes, Go- _Hell_ , yes.”

He can’t even put up the pretense to be annoyed at almost slipping up; he is too preoccupied with the jerk of his cocks and the steady dribble of molten pre-cum over his trembling, tight belly. Hearing Aziraphale use these words is… It is good. Very good.

When Crowley reaches down, trying to wrap his fist around the two sleek snake cocks, Aziraphale slaps his wrist.

Crowley’s head snaps down, staring up at the angel. Aziraphale’s cheeks are redder than his hair, his blue eyes watery with how shiny they are. He looks… Feverish and a bit embarrassed but very, _very_ determined, and Crowley finds himself slowly, meekly pulling away his hand.

“I did not give you permission to touch yourself, harlot,” Aziraphale says clearly,albeit with a trembling voice. “Your delightful… D-delightfully _nasty_ c-c-c-cocks are for nobody to touch than me. And they are so… So hot, and big and… Slimey…”

Aziraphale bites his bottom lip and sucks on it. He looks like he has half a mind of slipping his short, sturdy cock out of Crowley and sitting himself down on his snake dicks instead.

They glance at each other, cheeks a hot red and eyes glazed. They look more like naughty school boys than anything else in that moment.

“They are absolutely disgusting,” Aziraphale rasps with a voice that says anything but. His cock is flexing inside Crowley, testing out the spongy give of his clenching, silky insides. _Allmighty_ , but he shouldn’t feel so good inside. So… addicting. “And I… I will let you know when I intent to make use of them.”

And then he suddenly does something new: he grabs Crowley’s hips and _does_ pull back and out, taking his cock away from him with a little squelch that has Crowley gaping at him, confused and dismayed and on the verge of trying to grab at him and… And beg.

Aziraphale pushes and nudges until Crowley finally gets with the program and makes himself turn around.

“Up on your knees. I am tired of doing all the work and you just lying there like… Like a lazy…”

Crowley flushes hot, his wings tremble, then stretch out, casting a shadow on his face and cocooning him in between his arms.

“Whore,” he supplies throatily, his cocks flexing, so rigid, the thin, tapered tips are brushing against his belly just barely.

Aziraphale is quiet for a moment. His blessedly cool hand touches the small of Crowley’s back, making tense muscles relax until he has trouble keeping on his knees.

“Yes,” Aziraphale whispers solemnly. “Like a whore.”

There’s no hitch or stutter or boyish embarrassment in his voice that time, and Crowley hides his face in his arms, breathing into the cup of his hands because he feels like he is hyperventilating when Aziraphale slowly spreads his cheeks and doesn’t do anything for quite a while.

Nothing but staring at Crowley’s flushed hole; fucked butter soft by that fat, sturdy dick between the angel’s thick, jiggly thighs.

“Just look at you… Open and wet… So receptive… As if you were made for me.”

He had been, Crowley is sure. He had been made just for Aziraphale, just as Aziraphale had been made for him – but it is difficult to think when the blunt mushroom tip of Aziraphale’s cock suddenly nudges back against him.

There is the sensation of the tip nudging and rubbing and never really slipping inside, and just before Crowley starts biting his tongue bloody not to beg, Aziraphale finally begins the slow push back inside.

It is excruciatingly slow. Involuntary tears spring up in Crowley’s eyes when he is reminded of just how… how _wide_ Aziraphale’s cock is. How there is no way to ignore it. When Aziraphale fucks – and it is difficult enough to tempt him into it – he _fucks_.

One gentle hand curls around the base of Crowley’s right wing, and then he is being pulled back onto the sturdy cock again and again, the breath being fucked out of him until spots dance in front of his vision.

Aziraphale is talking, but Crowley can’t make out what exactly he is saying. His voice is gentle and reverent in any case. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his chubby, cherubian body, and Crowley is deathly annoyed – but not when he’s fucked into coming untouched on an Angel’s cock.

No… Not then.


	12. Aziraphale/Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale/Crowley – feeding; body/chub appreciation; snake penis Crowley; neck biting/marking; gaping – Aziraphale is not the damsel in distress that he likes to show off.

“How is the plane supposed to land if you don’t open the landing strip?” Crowley asks with a lot more seriousness than is warranted.

Aziraphale flushes – a cute round pink flush centered on the apples of his cheeks, because _of course_  – and says with a bashful little smile: “I really shouldn’t, Crowley…”

He says it like someone at a dinner party, and not like someone speared on one of Crowley’s cocks, riding him very, _very_ leisurely. His eyes do not leave the morsel of eclair that Crowley is holding between his fingers, the cream filling oozing obscenely from the hole in the middle.

Crowley is lying back, one arm behind his head, the other extended to let the pastry dance in front of Aziraphale’s nervously grinning mouth.

“Shouldn’t like ‘oh no, I shouldn’t bother my neighbour for yet another spot of tea’ or shouldn’t like ‘oh no, I shouldn’t have given away that nifty flaming sword that the Allmighty has trusted me with’?”

Aziraphale’s mouth opens in dismay, and he – very gently – slaps his hands against Crowley’s chest.

“Oh you don’t need to bring that up every chance you get!”

Crowley just looks at him, lifting an eyebrow and squeezing the eclair a tad until the cream is in danger of dripping down, and Aziraphale swoops in quickly to catch the cut up bit of pastry in his mouth.

He tries to glare at Crowley, but he has never been good at that. Aziraphale is just… Well. Aziraphale. Crowley has never again met someone like him.

“There you go…” He croons and pulls his arm from behind his head to grab Aziraphale’s hips with both hands.

“You are horrible for my diet,” Aziraphale finally complains when he’s swallowed it down, but it is a bit out of breath because Crowley has taken the action quite literally into his own hands and is bouncing him along the sleek, tapered jut of his cock.

The other one is snuggled along Aziraphale’s crack, getting the small of his back sticky with dabs of slimey pre-cum.

“Oh come on. You don’t need a diet!” Crowley is frowning now, his fingers digging into the squishy love handles at Aziraphale’s sides, then to his squishy belly which he squeezes until the angel is squealing like a little pig and slaps at him again, cheeks bright red.

Aziraphale is quiet for a moment, except for this soft panting as he follows along the rhythm that Crowley has set and struggles to push himself up unto his knees again and again despite his thick thighs starting to burn.

Crowley is a long, hot brand in his guts, reaching intimately deep. The other one is flexing, knocking against his ass every now and then, and Crowley’s stare is very intense and very obvious.

“I… I can’t, Crowley,” he stutters, heat suffusing his body.

“Can’t what?”

“Don’t make me say it…”

Crowley just stares at him, his face unreadable. His hands are constantly wandering, slowly – dare he say _reverently_ – brushing Aziraphale’s body up and down, squeezing at every little roll of fat he can get.

He digs his fingertips into Aziraphale’s soft chest and pinches his rusty red nipple until tears spring up in Aziraphale’s eyes and his short, fat cock flexes.

“I can’t take them both,” he says quickly in a rush, his ears flaming more than his sword. Crowley looks pleased, but his voice remains teasing and incredulous.

“Of course you can! You did it plenty of times!”

Aziraphale shakes his head.

Crowley makes a considering tone, then grabs him and flips them.

“Oh yes you can… Let me show you,” he croons. It is always the same with Aziraphale; not wanting to seem lewd like the slutty little Angel that he is – but the truth of the matter is that when Crowley pulls back and curls a hand around both of his cocks, gently squeezing them together to feed both tips into Aziraphale, they slide into the creamy soft hole shockingly smoothly.

Aziraphale is babbling protests, all soft and breathy, cheeks red hot and hands stroking up and down Crowley’s arms, but nothing substantial; nothing that would make the demon stop in defiling him, hips nudging and rolling and fucking both of his cocks into Aziraphale to make him stretch impossibly wide around the thick bases.

When Crowley looks up, more than halfway in and going a bit cross-eyed at the silky soft feeling around him just to gloat and tell him ‘Look! You’re taking me like a proper whore, Angel!’ he pauses because Aziraphale looks curiously… _pleased_.

As if he had gotten what he wanted like a… a _naughty boy_ , and it occurs to Crowley suddenly and glaringly that the Angel has _played_ him.

His mouth slowly drops open. He freezes halfway into the buttery soft clutch of Aziraphale’s body and just stares at him in shock and dismay.

“You… You…”

Words are failing him. Aziraphale looks at him, really _looks_ , realizes that he has _fucked up_ , as the Americans so aptly put it, and scrambles to rectify his mistake, pulling faces and trying to whine.

“Oh… oh no you… you _brute_. You absolute… absolute _monster_ , how _could_ you! My… my poor little-”

He breaks off, his flush travelling down his neck. He can be a lewd naughty angel but he can’t make himself say naughty words without flushing like a school boy.

“Oh you…” he growls and lowers himself down, pressed flush against Aziraphale’s soft, chubby front as he bites at his neck; nice and high where the proper little collar and bow tie won’t be able to reach, all the while his hips flex and he forces the fattest parts of his cocks into the angel. 

Finally Aziraphale’s cries sound genuine; not distressed but… close to it. He is scrabbling at him, then curling his hands around Crowley’s upper arms. He vibrates like he wants to scratch at him but can’t make himself hurt him.

“I will show you not to mess with me,” Aziraphale rasps against his neck when he finally releases his flesh from between his teeth, then tilts his head to the other side to give him another big fat hickey that he won’t be able to hide, and Aziraphale _shudders_ beneath him, his fat cock flexing and wetting where it is squeezed between their bellies.

When Crowley fucks him – finally just starts _giving_ it to him – Aziraphale is hiccuping with every inwards thrust, his round button chin lifted up into the air, showing off his throat and the bite marks that are littering it now while he spreads his legs, chubby thighs trembling mightily around Crowley’s slim hips.

“Naughty… naughty angel,” Crowley growls at him. The slap of skin on skin is loud and obscene. He finally kneels back up and grabs Aziraphale’s knees, making him curl until his big, soft belly is all scrunched up and his face is getting red; this time because it is difficult to breathe than for any embarrassment he might feel. 

Crowley pulls out, and the sound is accompanied by a slick, nasty little sound.

Aziraphale is so pale; except for the flushed pink of his knees and elbows and slightly flabby ass cheeks – and then there’s his hole; a bright hot gape between said wonderful wonderful cheeks, wide and lewd and glistening wet with the slime that Crowley’s cocks so liberally produce.

“You’re a naughty boy, angel,” Crowley tells him again, voice gone down into a purr, eyes slitted in satisfaction.

Aziraphale smiles at him all shy and pleased like it’s a compliment at a dinner party.


End file.
